


Shotgun Kiss

by miltonicsimile



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Drinking, Drugs, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, One Night Stands, One Shot, Shotgun kiss, Texts From Last Night, but just like, preppy! seungkwan, stoner! hansol, verkwan, weed lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 21:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12329331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miltonicsimile/pseuds/miltonicsimile
Summary: Seungkwan's one night stands usually don't go like this.





	Shotgun Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> lol i literally wrote this in June but didn't post it because i feel like some people wouldn't approve but I've apparently grown as a person and don't care anymore so enjoy  
> but yeah, read the tags, if you don't like don't read :)

Seungkwan wakes up at noon, in a bed that isn’t his.

He groans as he tries to roll over, but a heavy arm is snaked around his middle and holding him tight.

 _Shit,_ Seungkwan thinks. He vaguely remembers dancing and drinking with one specific boy half the night, abandoning Seokmin and the rest of his friends for an easy smile. He must have gone home with the boy - _yes -_ Seungkwan remembers now, drunken stumbling through an unfamiliar dark apartment with hands under his shirt and lips on his neck.

Seungkwan sighs, trapped under the boy’s unnaturally strong hold, and looks around the room. It’s small and messy, clothes littering the floor and empty chip bags discarded atop the dresser. The walls are white underneath the many posters for foreign movies he’s never heard of.

It’s so unlike his own tidy room with it’s bright blue walls and girl group posters, it’s almost _funny._ Seungkwan never really expects much besides performance in bed from his one night stands, he holds out no hopes of common interests besides _fucking_ , but this is almost too much for him.

Seungkwan’s gaze lands on a pretty glass object on the windowsill, and it takes a moment for him to place it.

 _Oh,_ Seungkwan thinks when it finally clicks. _Shit._ What kind of guy did he go home with last night?

The arm around his waist pulls him closer again, and there’s hot breath on Seungkwan’s neck. “Morning,” the boy mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

Seungkwan bites his bottom lip, suddenly hyper-aware of not only his nakedness, but also that of the boy pressed into him from behind. It’s a far more intimate position than Seungkwan’s used to from one night stands.

“It’s noon,” he says. “Almost one.”

The boy chuckles, chest vibrating into Seungkwan’s back. “Well, good afternoon then. Do you want coffee?”

Seungkwan doesn’t particularly want to stay and make awkward small talk over coffee, exchanging small facts before heading home in last night’s clothes. It’s embarrassing, unnecessary - he’s usually gone in the morning before his bedmate wakes up just to avoid such things. He doesn’t like being faced with the often ugly truths of the men he sleeps with. He just would rather _not_ know. Seungkwan’s only there for the sex, he doesn’t want anything beyond that from them - and from what he can tell about last night’s choice, they really do not have much in common.

“Or breakfast? I can order take out,” the boy says, finally releasing Seungkwan from his grip and sitting up. “My treat.”

 _Shit,_ Seungkwan thinks again. He’s about to break his golden rule, but he’s a student and free food is _free food_.

“Okay,” he says with a yawn, sitting up in bed too, looking around for his clothes.

“Here,” the boy says, reaching for a t-shirt from the floor, handing it to Seungkwan. “It’s clean, I promise.”

Seungkwan takes it and gives a small smile in thanks.

“I’ll go start the coffee. The bathroom is to the right.”

“Okay,” Seungkwan says again. He’s never done this before, it’s uncharted territory and as confident as he is pulling handsome boys into bed, he’s just as unsure in doing anything after they’re done all that.

The boy climbs out of bed, his pale bare ass greeting Seungkwan before he pulls on crumpled boxers from the floor and stumbles out of the room.

Seungkwan lets out a laugh, surprising himself. He finds his own boxers by the end of the bed, where they had been eagerly shed the night before.

 _This will be fine,_ he tells himself, heading for the bathroom. _It’s just food and small talk,_ he tries reasoning. He is a smart, confident, handsome guy with a great ass. He can do this.

Seungkwan washes his face, puffy and smudged with last nights makeup. He curses himself for sleeping in it, apologizing to his skin, promising to do a deep cleanse and a face mask when he gets home.

“Hi,” Seungkwan says, unsure when he eventually enters the kitchen.

It’s small, just like the rest of the apartment. It’s also messy, like the rest of the apartment. But as far as Seungkwan can tell, not from actual cooking. The counters are littered with takeout counters and dirty dishes, and just general _clutter._ No dirty pots or pans in sight.

Seungkwan takes a tentative seat on one of the barstools, overlooking the kitchen. The boy - Seungkwan still doesn’t remember his name - is watching hot dark brown liquid pour into the pot.

“Hey,” he replies, delayed. He looks away from the coffee and at Seungkwan. “I ordered noodles, is that okay? If it’s not I can order something else, or I can go get you something else there’s a restaurant only down the block and -”

“Noodles are fine,” Seungkwan smiles, flattered that he’s capable of making someone so flustered when he knows he looks like crap.

The boy brightens. “Oh. Great.”

He starts pulling mugs from the cupboard.  From his seat, Seungkwan watches and appreciates the display of the lean muscles moving in the boy’s back. When he realizes what he’s doing, he pauses. _No,_ he tells himself, _you’re here for free food, nothing else._

“Here you go, Seungkwan,” the boy says, placing a steaming mug on top of a newspaper dated two month ago.

“Thanks,” Seungkwan replies, eyeing it warily. “This is embarrassing, but uh, what’s your name again?”

“Hansol,” he says with frown, but there's laughter in his voice. “My name is Hansol. Do you really not remember?”

Seungkwan feels his cheeks heat, and nods. “Sorry, I had a lot to drink.”

“I remembered your name, Seungkwan.”

“I know. I just suck, okay?” He says, leaving out the _I normally don’t have to remember names._

Hansol leans on the counter, sipping his coffee, a lazy smile on his face. _It’s a nice face,_ Seungkwan thinks, _even after a night of heavy drinking._

“It’s okay,” He says, brown eyes shining. “I’m just teasing.”

Hansol opens his cupboard again, and pulls out a small dish of sugar. “You want some?” He asks, spooning in a bit to his own mug.

“Uh, sure.” Seungkwan says, taking it. He adds one, two, _three,_ spoonfuls before stirring.

He looks up and is greeted by an amused look on Hansol’s handsome face.

Seungkwan smiles shyly, and takes a sip. _Still gross,_ but he tries to keep his face neutral.

“Seungkwan,” Hansol says, warm eyes looking at him over his mug.

“Yes?”

“Do you _like_ coffee?”

“God, no.”

Hansol lets out a proper laugh, grabbing the mug from in front of Seungkwan and pouring it down the sink. “What about tea?”

“Yes, please,” Seungkwan breathes, embarrassed but relieved he doesn’t have to try to drink that god awful bean juice.

Hansol makes the tea quickly; the water fast to boil and poured over the dried leaves.

“Thanks,” Seungkwan says bashfully, taking the mug for the second time. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Hansol replies, still amused. “Just tell me what you like next time, okay?”

_Next time?_

Seungkwan forces a smile, sipping his tea gratefully. “Okay.”

“Want to watch some TV?” Hansol asks after a few too many moments of silence. “The noodles should be here soon.”

“Sure,” Seungkwan replies, because what else is he going to do. He’s never done any of this before.

He takes his cup of tea and moves to the couch. Sweaters are strewn across the back of it, and dirty discarded socks have been left inside out on the floor. The coffee table in front of it is as much of a mess as the kitchen counters, papers and dirty dishes left here too. Another pretty glass object sits in the middle, dirty from use, and _honestly,_ it looks right at home among the chaos.

“ _Seriously?”_ Seungkwan says, gesturing to it as Hansol joins him on the couch. “You have not one, but _two_ bongs?”

Hansol lets out a quick laugh, embarrassed, looking at him cautiously, gauging his reaction. “No, no, that one isn’t mine. My friend left it here the other night.”

Seungkwan gives him a dubious look, sipping his tea.

“I swear!” Hansol says, then pauses. “Are you like, _okay_ with pot? You aren’t like, going to report me to the police or anything?”

As much as marijuana, drugs, in general, are taboo, Seungkwan isn’t one to go ruining people’s lives. Especially not his one-night stand’s, whom he would like to push aside and move past.

“No,” he says, then clarifies. “No, I wouldn’t report you. _I_ don’t do drugs, but it’s none of my business what you do.”

“Okay,” Hansol says, eyeing him warily. He looks relieved but still unsure. “Do you want some?”

Seungkwan chokes on his tea.

Hansol gives him a crooked smile, and Seungkwan thinks once again, _shit._

“No, I don’t want - I’ve never done that, it’s _illegal,_ and it’s just not -”

Hansol rests his hand on Seungkwan’s bare knee, and rubs gently. “Chill,” he says, “it’s not a big deal. You don’t have to, I was just offering.”

Seungkwan nods. His cheeks feel hot, but he’s unsure if it’s because of the foreign hand on his knee that feels just a bit too good, or because of casual discussion of illicit substances.

“Do you mind if I have some?” Hansol asks, grabbing the bong from the centre of the table and setting it closer. He unscrews a shiny metal cylinder, spiky on one side, the other filled with dried plant.

Seungkwan’s eyes widen. He’s never known anyone who did drugs, it just wasn’t _done_. You can get blackout drunk every night, or at company dinners, be a high functioning alcoholic, that’s all a-okay, but _drugs? Weed?_ _Hell no._

“Uh,” he stutters lamely, half shocked at Hansol’s casual tone, so laid back and chill, acting like this was a normal thing. Though, Seungkwan now considering Hansol’s personality, the habit kind of makes sense. It probably is a normal thing to him. “I guess not.”

Hansol nods, and Seungkwan can tell he’s amused by his reaction. But what did he really except? Hansol wasn’t blind, he surely had an idea about what type of person Seungkwan was, had made his own assumptions based on the dyed hair and clean, classy, preppy attire. He wasn’t the type to do illegal things, not when he had his future, his reputation at hand.

Seungkwan watches as Hansol puts a bit of the pot in the bowl before looking around for a lighter.

“Here,” Seugkwan offers, spotting one on the floor by his foot, underneath a stray dirty sock.

Hansol takes it with a smile. “Thanks,” he says, before putting the bong on his lap and lighting it.

Seungkwan watches curiously as the smoke begins to rise from the bottom, up the glass, twisting and swirling, Hansol inhaling. After what seems to him like a rather long time, Hansol drops the lighter and properly inhales, emptying the glass, and Seungkwan can hardly believe that someone’s lungs can possibly hold that much. He’s rather impressed, despite knowing next to nothing about smoking weed.

“Wow,” he murmurs, and Hansol looks up to the ceiling and exhales, blowing a lazy cloud of smoke out.

“Yeah,” Hansol agrees, looking over at Seungkwan with slowly glazing eyes. “Wow.”

Hansol finds the remote for the TV under his ass, and finally turns it on to some rerun of a drama Seungkwan’s already seen. He can tell Hansol’s not really focusing on the show, and Seungkwan isn’t either, much too intrigued despite his better judgment.

“Hansol,” he says after a while, picking at the edge of his boxers.

“Yeah?”

“Can I try?”

Hansol looks away from the TV, gives him a knowing smile. “You wanna smoke?”

Seungkwan feels like a hypocrite after practically telling Hansol off, a boy he’s known for a total of probably twelve hours, _his one night stand,_ but if there was a time to try something like this, it’s _now_. No one would ever know but him, Hansol would be forgotten in a week, cataloged in the back of his mind as a decent fuck from that new club Seokmin wanted to try.

But, Hansol wouldn’t, would he? He had already become more than all of Seungkwan’s other one night stands, having woken up with him, had coffee (tea) with, will have eaten take out with.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan says quietly after a moment, “I wanna try it.”

“Okay,” Hansol smiles, repacking it slowly and then moves to hand it to Seungkwan, but he shies away.

“I don’t want to like, actually do that,” he admits. “It’s not even _your_ bong, I don’t know who has used that, who your friends are.” He shifts on the couch, not looking at directly at Hansol. “Besides, I don’t really know how.”

Hansol rests a hand on Seungkwan’s bare knee again, pale against the tan of his leg. “I know another way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Hansol grabs the bong and lighter, and shifts closer to Seungkwan on the couch, who shakes his head at the implication.

“Just follow me, ‘kay?” Hansol says, words smooth and easy, they make Seungkwan nod without thinking. Hansol is soothing in a way, especially in this current state, water to Seungkwan’s ever burning fire.

Hansol takes another hit, and Seungkwan watches again, this time at a much closer proximity. When Hansol inhales all the smoke, he sets the bong on the messy coffee table, and then leans into Seungkwan, closer and closer until their lips are touching. It’s too late to pull away once Seungkwan finally realizes Hansol’s intentions, instead opening his mouth slightly and accepting what’s being blown in slowly, inhaling the smoke.

Seungkwan’s smoke cigarettes, knows how to properly inhale, to breathe deep and _hold_ it, but this is nothing like cigarettes. It’s so much more, heavier almost, and before Hansol can pull away, Seungkwan finds himself coughing slightly.

“What was that?” He asks, clearing his throat. Everything feels lighter, and Seungkwan wonders if it’s from the kissing, the coughing, or the weed.

“It’s called a shotgun kiss,” Hansol says in English, that lazy smile of his twisting Seungkwan’s heart in ways it shouldn’t. Then, “I don’t know the Korean term, or if there is one.”

“Oh,” Seungkwan says, a beat too late. “There should be.”

Hansol grins at him, still so close on the couch. “Yeah?”

He reaches up and brushes hair out of Seungkwan’s eyes, and he thinks that it’s nice. Hansol is nice. This apartment is nice, the mess adds character, makes it feel lived in. The kiss was nice, the smoke was nice. Hansol’s face is awfully nice.

“Want to try again?”

So they do, Hansol taking hits from the bong and blowing into Seungkwan’s eagerly awaiting mouth. After a while they stop with the smoke and start proper, slow, lazy kissing instead. It feels so good, different from the kissing Seungkwan normally does, which is rushed, hot and heavy. This change of pace is good, maybe what he’s been missing.

A buzz fills the room. It’s something he’s heard before, but not regularly and it takes Seungkwan a minute to place it. It finally clicks when Hansol slowly makes his way to the intercom and presses something to make his own buzz. The promised take out. The noodles.

The door opens a minute later and Seungkwan leans his chin on the back of the couch, watching Hansol’s bareback for the second time that day. It’s a particularly nice back, smooth and toned but not too much, just enough for Seungkwan to really enjoy it.

When the door shuts and Hansol makes his way back to the couch, food in hand.

“Here,” he says, handing Seungkwan a warm box.

Fuck,” Seungkwan moans after taking a bite. “What _is this?”_

Hansol lets out a low laugh, “it’s noodles when stoned, aka the best noodles ever.”

Seungkwan nods, filling his mouth again, because it’s _just so good._ “How have I ever eaten noodles _not_ stoned? This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten, that I ever will eat.”

Hansol laughs again, and the only sounds are the TV and the clinking of the metal chopsticks.

Sometime after eating Seungkwan finds him with his head on Hansol’s lap. The TV’s still on, but he’s not watching. Everything is good, he thinks. He’s warm, Hansol radiating heat, and he’s happy and full from the noodles.

When he wakes up it’s seven, and the sun has set.

“Shit,” he grumbles, sitting and peeling his face from Hansol’s thigh. He goes to look for the rest of his clothes. “I gotta go.”

“Okay,” Hansol replies groggily, sitting up straight. Then, “can I get your number?”

Seungkwan pauses in the doorway to Hansol’s bedroom, debating what to do. This is why he doesn’t do anything but fuck his one night stands, it gives them precedence for _more._

“Yeah,” he says after a moment, “sure.”

He races to dress himself with his clothes from last night, wrinkled from the floor and stained with booze and reeking of cigarettes. He finds his phone in the back pocket of his jeans, and more than a dozen messages from Seokmin, and a missed call. He’ll deal with it later, on the bus home. He has to deal with Hansol first.

“Thanks,” Seungkwan says, heading to the front door directly from the bedroom. He turns the knob, eager to leave. “For the noodles…and the rest.”

Hansol gets up from the couch and Seungkwan holds back a groan, slowly opening the door.

“You’re welcome, for the noodles and _the rest,”_ Hansol grins, close enough now to lean in, but Seungkwan sees this one coming and slips out through the door.

“Yeah, thanks. Bye!”

Seungkwan catches the next bus home, he’s not too far, only about a fifteen minute ride. He pulls out his phone, and finally opens all the texts from Seokmin.

 

From: Seokmin

11:45pm

Where r u ??????

 

From: Seokmin

12:11am

R u w that hot white boy still??

 

From: Seokmin

12:26am

Seunfkwan

 

From: Seokmin

12:58am

U succ

 

From: Seokmin

1:23am

Ur missin drunk joshua pretniding to onyl speak english to girls

 

From: Seokmin

1:45am

I mis u

 

From: Seokmin

2:03am

Suengkwn y must u abandon me for d evetytim

 

Seungkwan shakes his head, reading the drunk texts. Typical Seokmin.

 

From: Seokmin

10:49am

Did u get home?

 

From: Seokmin

11:45am

Are you alive

 

From: Seokmin

12:04pm

Did the d kill u

 

From: Seokmin

1:10pm

Seriously seungkwan text me the fuck back before i call your mom and tell her your gay hook up kidnapped and murdered u

 

From: Seokmin

2:20pm

Did you break your phone????

 

From: Seokmin

6:57pm

Lol i fell asleep i rly hope u aren’t dead and i delayed the police response time by sleeping

 

From: Seokmin

7:00pm

Bitch r u alive omg

 

Seungkwan shakes his head, amused but also glad that at least Seokmin was worried about him. It was rather unlike Seungkwan to be off his phone for so long, if Seokmin had done the same to him he too would have probably been worried.

 

From: Seungkwan

7:22pm

The d killed me but i have risen

 

From: Seokmin

7:23pm

Just like jesus, the true power bottom icon

 

From: Seungkwan

7:25pm

He rly is, got nailed by like six guys at the same time

 

From: Seokmin

7:26pm

Bwahah i hate u

R u home

 

From: Seungkwan

7:27pm

Not yet, on way

 

From: Seokmin

7:28pm

Shit the d rly did kill u

Rip

 

When Seungkwan finally gets home he takes a bath and does a face mask, washing off the sweat and booze and the stench of smoke. As he soaks in the warm, bubbly water, he can’t help but consider how good taking a bath would be while high. He considers how good taking a bath high with Hansol.

Seungkwan regrets barging out on him, not giving him his number. It was petty of him, and honestly probably what anyone would expect from some preppy boy. Seungkwan’s better than that, at least that what he tells himself. He doesn’t have the actions to prove it though. He doubts he’ll ever see Hansol again to redeems himself, they likely don’t run in the same circles, and Seoul’s a big city. Whatever there might have been between the two of them, it’s chances are gone.

Over lunch the next day, Seokmin asks how Seungkwan’s night was, wiggling his eyebrows. He laughs in reply, maybe not quite as fully as he might have under the usual circumstances, but Seokmin doesn’t notice.

“It was good,” Seungkwan tells him honestly. “I just ended up sleeping more than usual.”

“He must have worn you out,” Seokmin replies with a smirk. They normally laugh together at each other’s less than respectable exploits.

Seungkwan shrugs, keeping a coy smile. “Yeah, I tried some new things.”

Seokmin lets out of full hearted laugh, earning them dirty looks from the other tables. It was the truth though, Seungkwan wouldn’t lie to his best friend, but it doesn’t feel right to tell even Seokmin about Hansol. It was different with him, despite it all. Hansol deserved better, he was a nice guy. Seungkwan should have given him a chance.

They don’t talk about Seungkwan’s unusual one-night stand again.

Two months later, Seungkwan finds himself drunk again, shouting over the blaring bass of the club at Seokmin.

“How about that one?” He points at a tall guy with bleached hair, sloshing the top of his drink onto Seokmin’s shoes. He doesn’t notice though, or at least, he’s drunk enough not to care if he does.

“He looks straight!” Seokmin shouts back, laughing into Seungkwan’s ear.

Seungkwan laughs along with him. Everything is warm from the booze, and between the lights and the bass, he finds himself just existing in the moment. It’s a good break from his typical study filled nights, and why he lets Seokmin drag him out to these things.

“It’s worth a shot!” He tells his friend, pushing him in the direction of the bar. “Ask him to dance!”

Seokmin laughs some more, but shrugs and makes his way over, leaving Seungkwan watching from afar.

“Hey!” A voice calls from behind him, and he turns and is greeted by a face he thought he’d never see again.

“Hansol!” Seungkwan gasps, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him closer.

He looks the same, brown hair pushed off his forehead and a wide smile. He looks good, but he probably always looks good Seungkwan thinks, he’s just one of those people.

“You remembered my name!” Hansol grins into his ear, wrapping an arm around Seungkwan’s shoulders, bringing his face close to his own.

“Of course!” Seungkwan scoffs, taking a drink.

Hansol laughs, loud in their close proximity, despite the music. “You forgot it the first time!”

“I was drunk!” Seungkwan defends himself, rolling his head to look over at Hansol with an embarrassed smile.

“So?” Hansol counters, breath hot on Seungkwan’s neck. “You’re drunk now, aren’t you?”

Seungkwan nods, taking another drink, eyes meeting Hansol’s from behind the glass. He’s good looking, too good looking to be bothering to talk to Seungkwan again after being treated like shit.

“Come on,” Hansol says after a few moments, removing his arm from Seungkwan’s shoulders and reaching for his hand instead. They intertwine fingers, and Hansol leads them through the throng of hot, bare, grinding bodies, and outside to the gated designated area for smoking.

When they get there, they sit in the back corner, waves of cigarette smoke wafting their way in the cool night breeze. Seungkwan finishes his drink, and sets it on the ground beside him, and looks at Hansol. The night air has cleared his mind a bit, and he can’t help but wonder what Hansol is doing here with him.

“Aren’t you going to smoke?” He asks, his drunkenness leaving little to no filter between his thoughts and his mouth.

“I don’t smoke,” Hansol confesses with a small smile and shrug.

Seungkwan lets out a loud laugh, and Hansol joins him.

“What you mean is that you don’t smoke cigarettes,” Seungkwan replies, challenging him for a correction.

“They’re not good for you.” Hansol says, still smiling. They sit there for a few moments, listen to the drunken conversation and laughter around them.

“I’m sorry,” Seungkwan says suddenly, filling the silence. “I was kind of a dick.”

Hansol looks over at him, and pushes the hair out of Seungkwan’s eyes. A foreign gesture to him, he’s not used to intimacy like this.

“It’s okay,” Hansol tells him, hand lingering on Seungkwan’s flushed cheek. “You didn’t owe me anything.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” Seungkwan confesses, “I felt like I was such the biggest idiot in the world for not giving you a chance.”

“Really?” Hansol looks surprised, but pleased. “I’m going to be honest, I didn’t think a guy like you would even give me a chance that first night. Instead you surprised me, and kept on dancing and flirting. The next day when you left, you may have been surprised but I wasn’t, not really. Not even after,” Hansol pauses, “all that.”

Seungkwan shakes his head, ashamed, embarrassed, drunk. “Hansol, I don’t even know you, but I feel like I should. I had fun with you, really. I want to get to know you.”

Hansol laughs softly, a smug smile forming. “Boys like you don’t usually want to get to know boys like me.”

“Well I do,” Seungkwan insists, standing up, taking Hansol’s other hand and standing in front of him. “What’s the likelihood of finding each other again? Believe a little, give it a chance.”

Hansol glances away, smile wide. “Well, actually, fairly high.”

“What?”

“I kept coming back here, every weekend. This same club. To find you. This is just the first time you’ve come back.”

It’s one of the few times where Seungkwan finds himself speechless. Instead, he leans in, and presses his lips to Hansol’s.

“Take me home,” Seungkwan whispers when they break apart. “I wanna give us a chance.”

**Author's Note:**

> lol don't forget to post a comment and all that jazz
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/checkinsbitch/)


End file.
